Page 30 of Liars and Liaisons

“Parties?”

“Occasionally, I throw get-togethers. Like the one you walked into at the fundraiser.”

“Oh.” My face warms with the memory of that woman and the two men, writhing in tandem. “You don’t want me to attend?”

“No, I do not.”

I watch as he pushes off the frame, turning on his heel with his hands shoved in his pockets. The silhouette of that goat tattoo on his back is visible through the white of his shirt, though just barely. It reminds me of seeing it in the flesh at the hotel, and then I’m back to wondering what the hell went down that night.

And why hasn’t he mentioned it?

“Was it bad?”

Halting, he turns his head to the side, brows furrowed. “Excuse me?”

Emotion clogs my throat, and I prod the tip of my sandal at a frayed edge of the rug. “It’s just that… when we woke up together, you didn’t really say anything about…us.”

He turns around abruptly, eyes blazing. Takes a step in my direction. “I was under the impression you didn’t want there to be anus.”

“I-I don’t.”

“Sure about that? Your mouth says one thing, but your eyes, Little Echo…” His are molten in the sunlight, full of dark promise. “I’d think very carefully about what you ask of me.”

One of his hands comes up, skimming my jaw with the backs of his long fingers.

“We can’t,” I mutter even though every muscle in my body feels like it’s on fire.

His touch leaves a trail of devastation in its wake, partly from desire and partly because I wish I could remember the night wedidhave.

His hand falls away, and I clear my throat.

“I mean, I still want to work things out with Nate.”Even though I haven’t heard from him in weeks.Clasping my hands behind me, I shrug. “But you’re a professor. I think I’m entitled to a report card.”

“You want me to grade how well you did in bed?” One of those slashed brows arches. “Want me to, what exactly? Give you an A for being a good, dirty girl? Or an F for being bad? I’m all out of gold stars and demerits, Little Echo, so you’d have to pick something else as reward or punishment.”

Acute ripples of pleasure shoot through my stomach. The flames remain. “I suspect you have a treasure trove of experience.”

According to the online blog sites anyway, who all paint the youngest James as a total playboy.

The half-god, half-mortal moves another inch toward me, his shoes scuffling along the hardwood floor. He opens his mouth, and I watch those lush lips part on a deviant grin, waiting with bated breath for his assessment.

“Why do you want a grade? So you can run off to Nathaniel and tell him what I taught you?”

Warmth explodes on my face, nearly knocking me off balance. I can’t imagine ever telling Nate about my night with his brother, even if that’s clearly what the man expects the end-game to be here.

I open my mouth to tell him as much, but nothing comes out.

Distantly, a door slams closed with such force that the windows in this room rattle.

When no other sound comes, no footsteps or voices or other proof of life, Grayson draws away from me, like he’s been zapped with an angry awareness. His face shuts down, emotion fleeing the glint of his irises, and he backs up to the door.

“The wind,” he says, answering a question I didn’t ask. He doesn’t give more, turning on his heel and walking from the room.

When he closes the bedroom door behind him, I hear it outside—the air whipping against the glass, trying desperately to claw its way in.

But I hear it inside too. A soft, almost-melodic tune that clings to the atmosphere, seeking open spaces to slip through.

Like it’s trying to get out.

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